Yesterday
by Hime no Ichigo
Summary: A collection of character studies and perhaps their could-have-beens. 02 Vieira, Sebastiano: He didn't want his life to be replayed by this young boy, but one day, he would like to see his achievements.
1. 001 Chiaki, Shinichi

This is my first attempt at this fandom, brought on by my love for classical music and Chiaki-_senpai_, haha. I don't know why it's taken me so long to write something for _Nodame Cantabile_...actually, that's a lie. This was written a while ago but I just never got around to posting it because I haven't made much progress of the next few parts.

Oh look, I'm rambling already. Really, I'm not that much of a chatterbox...usually. XD

**Yesterday**  
By – _Hime no Ichigo_

_A collection of (attempted) character studies, perhaps their could-have-beens, and may include their perception of Nodame and/or Shinichi. Takes place at various points of the timeline._

**Genre**: General/Angst**  
Rating**: G**  
Pairings**: hinted Chiaki x Nodame**  
Summary**: Alone on the balcony, he thought he could hear Chopin.

**Recommended listening**: Frédéric Chopin; _Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Op. 11:_ _I. Allegro Maestoso_

**Disclaimer**: _Nodame Cantabile_ belongs to Ninomiya Tomoko.

**Warnings/Spoilers**: Lessons 127-129, if you're not caught up with the manga.

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_Yesterday's Lesson: Chiaki, Shinichi_

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It had been his dream for thirteen years to listen to his teacher conduct again, live. And here he was, in the great opera house of Italy, in the solitude of one of the balconies, while the stage and pit were a flurry of movements. The orchestra was playing through the section almost flawlessly; the voices were coming in at the right places and blending well. He didn't expect anything less.

Yet at this vantage point, he didn't see Vieira-_sensei_ waving his baton, the movement of the bows, or the breathing pattern of the singers; nor did he hear the bass' line fading towards the end of his aria, or the wrong semitone by one of the violas, or the rapping on the stand to signal a break.

He wanted to "listen to the music" – or so he had told Jean. That had been his sincere, original intention, to see how far the performers had come since their first rehearsal. But sitting in a music hall, he couldn't help but be transported back to London after closing his eyes.

Gone was the stage and pit, and in its place was the London Philharmonic Orchestra with a black grand piano between the conductor's podium and the audience. The comparatively simple orchestral arrangement could easily be pushed into the background of his memory, serving only as the foundation to the following torrent of the piano, but Chiaki could recall every other detail of that piece on the programme: the grumpy look on her face, the slight tension in her body while waiting intently for Streseman's signal before she gave herself up fully to the music, the faulty piano entrance and Streseman's close saves, the movements of her wrists and nimble fingers, giving each note its deserved clarity, volume, care, and emotion. She had been more than just _good_, he could now admit – he had underestimated her abilities yet again.

_I thought you wanted to perform your first concerto with me._

He had heard other Chopin interpretations before, by famous pianists who had already established their places in the musical world, but none sounded quite like Noda Megumi's version. The piano concerto had been lovingly delivered to the spellbound English hall, from the first movement until the very last chord of the third movement. She had taken them by storm and she herself by surprise.

And now she was gone again.

_Where are you, Nodame? Why aren't you back home yet, at Paris?_

If only he had ignored her wishes after the concert; if only he had gone into the dressing room regardless of any consequences. Chiaki had always been stubborn but could respect another's request if he felt the same way, if trouble could be avoided. Likewise, _had_ Nodame actually wanted to see him, he would have probably shied away; her last question before he left hung over him like a persistent cloud.

_Is there still a 'us'? Or is it back to 'you and I'?_

At this moment, all he wanted to do was to take the train back to Paris, to the family complex. Or find Streseman, Elise, Oliver – any one of them. But most of all, he wanted to be by her side, where he could hold her close and tell her how stupid he had been. If there was still a chance, he would take it. He wasn't sure if actually carrying out his idea would be satisfactory – after all, Vieira-_sensei_ was here, in Italy, and it wasn't a ten-minute walk to France – but he knew, deep down, that it would be worth it.

_Home is where the heart is...right, Nodame? So come home._

- _Owari_ -

**Story Word Count**: 606

**Authoress' Notes**: I'm sure I haven't made Chiaki suffer enough yet, though I _do_ want to do other characters before I come back to him.

Here's likely how this compilation will proceed: by character appearance, manga-wise. Unsteady updating schedule as of now.

_posted 02/15/10_


	2. 002 Vieira, Sebastiano

Who's ready for school?

**Yesterday**  
By – _Hime no Ichigo_

_A collection of (attempted) character studies, perhaps their could-have-beens, and may include their perception of Nodame and/or Shinichi. Takes place at various points of the timeline._

**Genre**: General**  
Rating**: G**  
Pairings**: none**  
Summary**: He didn't want his life to be replayed by this young boy, but one day, he would like to see his achievements.

**Recommended listening**: Ludwig van Beethoven; _Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op.67: I. Allegro con brio_

**Disclaimer**: _Nodame Cantabile_ belongs to Ninomiya Tomoko.

**Warnings/Spoilers**: None, I think, though I've taken a bit of liberty while writing out the background.

* * *

_Yesterday's Lesson: Vieira, Sebastiano_

* * *

The path to world fame was not an easy one to follow. By no means a 'genius' like renowned composers, he had to work doubly, triply hard to get to where he was today. It had taken countless sleepless nights, analyzing score after score, hearing the melody in his mind over and over, and rehearsing the pieces until everything was perfect, until they had the composer's original intent down, until they added their own unique touch to it. It was not simple – no one had ever said it was – but he felt the satisfaction afterwards, and that was all that mattered.

So when Shinichi showed up at his orchestral rehearsals at an age that unsettled him, he made up all sorts of excuses to exclude him. It wasn't as though he was disregarding the budding musical intelligence; he simply didn't want the child to walk the same steps as he did. Shinichi had shown the same potential, passion, and dedication as his father, Masayuki. But he was too young at that time.

Vieira recalled the twelve-year-old Shinichi who visited Prague again after a few years for the violin competition. He had changed, in ways more than just appearances; he sensed bitterness and resentment from the boy, even when playing the violin or during their little piano sessions. Losing paternal love at this stage of life was unhealthy for the rest of his growth; carrying a grudge for the years to come would bring fatigue and eventually, Shinichi's music would collapse. He couldn't let that happen.

He had been questioned multiple times about his childlike fascination with toys, especially by Shinichi. At that time in Prague, it would be pointless to try to explain – the boy wouldn't understand. But it was because of his own childhood that Vieira turned to games at this age. He had devoted so much time to music that it had swallowed up almost all of his social life, all in exchange for his position now.

Shinichi shouldn't be like him. He wanted the best for this boy, and he loved him like a son he would never have. When his mother took him back to Japan, Vieira felt a little hole in his heart; of course, he could never fully replace the role of a father, despite Shinichi's desperate insistence otherwise.

One day, he hoped to see that eager boy again. One day, he hoped to hear the music under his baton. One day, he hoped he had done the right thing by not keeping him there in Prague.

- _Owari_ -

**Story Word Count**: 423

**Authoress' Notes**: Vieira-_sensei_. ;w;

_posted 09/04/10_


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